Tag Archives: friendship

Apr24

She’s Leaving Home..

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It was a breezy summer evening in Burbank in 2004. Even though it was well after dark there was an orangish glow that permeated the night’s sky. I stood at the doorway of my room admiring the paintings and knick knacks that Olive had recently helped decorate my room with. I loved my room; I had a super high canopy bed, freshly painted purple walls and newly refinished hardwood floors I had done all by myself. Olive had helped with the finishing touches of picture placements and decorative knacks. No matter what kind of day I was having I could put on Celine Dion or Luther Vandross hop onto my bed, grab my diary, vent any frustrations about life and turn off the light to a restful night’s sleep. It’s funny the things one takes for granted.  How was I to know that that would be the last night I would spend in my room?

After changing into my nightgown, I put on Celine Dion opened my diary to vent about “Jason” my boyfriend, who the night before had made a scene at my friend Crystal’s when he woke up the neighborhood zooming over on his motorcycle to bust his way in to try and get to my purse to gain access to my pills. I could tell he was high on coke, even though he never took his helmet off, I didn’t need to see his eyes to know he was in an altered state. After 10 minutes of calling me derogatory names like cunt, fiend, junkie, whore (pot calling kettle black), I still gave him half of my pills (at least 10). I guess he wanted them all. Crystal had heard enough and literally physically removed him from my face“get the fuck out of here. Don’t you ever talk to my friend that way.” He saw that she was serious and turned the tables trying to “warn” her about what a “con artist” I was (classic!)   “She owes me these pills, Crystal; this is not your business.  “Vanessa is my business, and you will not stand in my house and disrespect her” At one point he even yanked at my foot, pulling me off the bed. Wow, I had never seen him this ugly before. It scared me.  His acting physical toward me sent Crystal into a tailspin and at this point had him by the arm and ushered him out. After he left, I was glad. I’m sure if Crystal had not been there I would’ve ended up giving him everything and would’ve endured a 3 hour rant. I was glad her strength overcame my weakness and she was able to handle a situation for me that I had already spent four years living. 2 of those playing this drug dance. Crystal and I talked the whole night about it. After many words of encouragement, she convinced me I was better than this. It’s hard seeing the mess you are in until a caring friend holds up a mirror. sadly, this was becoming my normal and she pointed out all the ways it had broken me down. She was right. I decided that the next day I was going to send him an email voicing my concerns and breaking things off once and for all. In my diary, that night, I wrote a sample letter, wanting to give it a night to sleep on before sending him an email. I had already become numb to this drama in so many ways that I don’t remember feeling sad… I was almost relieved.

I closed my Diary, turned Celine off and attempted to go to sleep. I tossed and turned. I would be lying to say that my relationship and the end coming near were not wearing on me, but it wasn’t what was keeping me awake. Was there a part of me that knew I would be in the streets for the next 2.5 years chasing my addictions?  How could I know that that was the last night I would spend in my quiet sanctuary before taking off into the cold and unforgiving streets of Methamphetamine? I laid awake looking at the full moon. Maybe that’s why I am so restless, I thought. Around 3am, still awake, Crystal called my cell, I answered the first ring. “Hey, Fred (nickname), I’m in front of your house. I’ve got some “la la” and John from down the street with me? Let’s go for a drive”.  I was awake already, why not? We had binged the weekend before. It’s just one night, right? I grabbed my purse and a change of clothes and quietly crept out of my childhood home..  and into a world that would take me further away from the innocence and carefree existence I enjoyed in that home each day that I was gone… I would never know home like that again.

To be continued.

Will continue this chapter tomorrow..

 

Apr14

Crystal

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Oh Crystal, sweet tragic soul. Why did you grace us with your spirit for such a remarkably short time? Crystal was hard for anyone to understand. She was beautiful, crass, rude, spirited, and loyal to the death. She wasn’t beautiful, she was gorgeous. Gwen Stefani would be jealous of her looks – even though similar, Crystal’s was more ethereal and timeless. She had a fascinating style, “sleeved” arms, a punker pink style.. fluorescent or platinum hair. One might think that tattoos and funny colored hair would detract from a pretty girl’s good looks; It only enhanced hers. She had a bleeding heart for the underdog, a loyalty that would prove to me at times stronger than a blood sister. At first impression, one might mistake her character as cold, odd, distant, and self-consumed, but once she became comfortable in anyone’s presence she proved herself to be anything but.

Crystal didn’t have the sheltered upbringing Olive and I took for granted. No one had ever unconditionally loved her. As I type that it yanks at my heart terribly. I had never met her mother. I knew her father quite well (or so I thought). Crystal’s parents divorced when she was quite young. She lived with her mother until she was 12. On a long distance trip to visit her father one summer, her mother abandoned her at a 7-11 in another state. Her mother called her dad to pick her up as she apparently could no longer handle her rebellious pre-teen. I can’t even fathom the feeling. Being a young girl already suffering from emotional trauma from being molested at 2 years old. To unknowingly, grab a Slurpee for the road to return to the parking lot abandoned and alone. I never asked her how that made her feel. I wish I had. Crystal made no bones about the fact that she despised her mom. I could tell she really loved her and probably wanted nothing more than for her evil mother to emerge from her narcissistic coma to show her daughter some sort of love or loyalty; that never happened. Her father, did not know what to do with this unruly pre-teen, I can only gather, because he never knew how to handle her in to adulthood. Richard was one of those strict Mormons – he didn’t even consume alcohol or caffeine. He never connected with her emotionally. He only would throw money at her to keep her quiet – if only for a few minutes..

Crystal was a stoner, free-spirit who believed in the spirit world, but did not believe in religion. Crystal was out early looking for love in all the wrong places. Anything to fill the void of abandonment and the utter indifference she received from both parents. At 15 she took up with a hardcore cholo type who abused her and drugs. Her father didn’t seem to care that his little girl was infiltrating into a very dangerous, potentially life altering scene. He would even drop her off with this adult man to spend weekends with his only daughter. Once she reached the porch of his house and as his car reached 30mph would he yell out of the car “don’t get pregnant”. Obviously, that form of birth control did not work. Angelica was born November 17, 1999 to a beautiful, emotionally abandoned, lost, teen mother. Crystal would convey how at the moment of Angelica entered the world there was this radiant light that entered the birthing room.

I didn’t meet Angelica until she was almost 2. Anyone who met this child said her name was very fitting as she was really an angel baby. She was the spitting image of Crystal, just half a shade darker. Angelica was an old soul, who was brilliant and unconditionally sweet. She sparkled like a fire cracker; wise beyond her years. It’s funny even though she was technically a baby/toddler when I met her, I always saw the old soul behind her eyes through her all-knowing stare. I met Richard, Crystal’s dad the same day I met Angelica. They all lived together in a luxury apartment in the nicer part of Burbank. Richard was there for Angelica 110%. A lot of people would mistake her for Angelica’s dad because he took such impeccable care of her.

Crystal feeling more and more emotionally lost and therefore battling constantly with addiction and bad men could not be a fulltime mother to Angelica. No doubt she loved that girl the best way she knew how. How can a mother be a mother to a little girl when she is a little girl herself who was never been loved or shown how to be a mother by her own mother? I was taken aback at Crystal’s weird, dysfunctional relationship with her father Richard. They never communicated. Sure, they would talk, she’d shout demands “I need a new car”, I need new boobs” I need $100, the dope man is here”. His response was always “OK Crystal.” I never would’ve guessed he would do what he did to his daughter and beloved granddaughter, but on further reflection, this situation was a ticking time bomb waiting for someone to explode. Oh, how I wish he had exploded on a tree or just himself, not on my Crystal and Angelica.

Crystal and I really did have a lot in common. She was painfully shy, and awkward in social situations as was I. Most people assumed that we were stuck up snobs but, we would talk about how often we were misjudged by others for being stuck up, cold and distant, when really, deep down, we were just deathly afraid of interacting with people. I’m sure that’s what attracted her to Olive in the first place. Olive and Crystal met at beauty school when they were 17. Olive’s character is the antithesis socially awkward. Olive has always been outgoing, direct, a “friend to all” type of gal who is not afraid to walk into any room with confidence and poise and by nights end have every man in love with her and every girl wanting to be her best friend. Even though Olive is a striking blonde with model looks, legs for miles and a thousand watt smile, females are never “jealous” of her. She has a way of making anyone feel good about themselves. One simple complement to an insecure chick and they are putty in her hands. By nights end they are making appointments to get their nails done together or bring flowers to a recently departed grandmother’s grave. Crystal and I were the polar opposite. We’d enter a social gathering and take refuge in a corner chair and just observe the party like we were watching a movie on a flat screen.

Olive was our common thread for a few years.Crystal and I only hung out in Olive’s presence until that Summer; the Summer where my journey began into the depths of drug addiction and emotional suicide. Once Olive was taken out of the equation, Crystal and I fed into each other’s predispositions and insecurities with love, loyalty, music and drugs. Drugs were not our only bond, but it certainly was a factor.

Oh, how I loved that girl. I can hear her giggle now.. I’m picturing her now, legs crossed, swinging forward, weed pipe in her left hand and giggling so adorably and infectiously. I can’t get her out of my mind. I guess, I never want to. It was very hard to write about her. Even though she’s been gone for 4 years, I’ve never actively thought of her for this long. I didn’t want to ache this way. I just wish we had been on good terms when she left us. It was such a stupid little fight. She never understood the unconditional loyalty I shared with my sister. Crystal, you were always there for me… I’m so sorry I couldn’t communicate to you how much I valued your love and undying loyalty. I know we are OK in the long run. You know I will always love you. Oh Crystal, you sweet, tragic soul. Why did you grace us with your spirit for such a remarkably short time?

Apr12

How Did I Get Here?

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As hard as it is sometimes to relive the past my bff (I call her “Olive” on here) convinced me to start writing my book already. I am going to try to write a few pages a day and post some excerpts.

;

My boss let me off early that day. After all it was a Friday. I worked on the 20th floor of the Wells Fargo building in the small corporate section in Las Vegas. I was working for a pretty prominent hotel development company that had recently opened a branch in Vegas. I was hired to assist the two VP’s as they got this office up and running. Before my boss could say “have a nice weekend” I had already punched the elevator button for the ground floor. I waited at the curb briefly for my mom to pick me up, then remembered, I had driven myself to work that day in the car my stepdad had just bought for me.

It was May. So much had changed since I took that one way trip from Los Angeles to Vegas on January 1, 2007. I hardly remember getting on the plane. I guess being up for 3 days mixed with pain killers, heroin and muscle relaxants might affect ones memory. My mom had begged me for months to just get on the plane and move in with her and her new husband. I was trying to make it on my own in my heroin chic meth addled state. I must have been high to think I could make it in LA of all places in my condition. I have always been a girl who fancied the finer things in life. When I was little my mother often remarked that the stork should’ve dropped me off in Beverly Hills, not West Covina, Ca. Even at my most broken, I would always manage to take up residence in some rich person’s crack den … Therefore in only took one night of literally sleeping on the streets of LA before I finally took her up on her offer.

As I passed the Las Vegas strip on the way to the fwy for home, I thought about Olive*; my best friend since 2nd grade. I hadn’t talked to her since New Year’s Eve. We grew up sheltered little Burbank girls and when I ventured away from her into the depths of hard drugs and living dangerously during the summer of 2004 she was destroyed. . She wanted no part of what I was getting into. She practiced tough love on me. I had been so resentful at the time but later knew how deep down she was terrified of losing me and couldn’t even handle speaking to me on the phone. After not speaking for a couple years she broke down, found my number on MySpace and called me. When she called, I was so happy to hear her voice; the mere sound of it reminded me of our carefree days chasing down boys in my Toyota Celica. It reminded me of home. She reminded me of me, and although I had just been thrown out of the last crack motel with a vacancy on New Year’s eve I was jolted, if only for a moment into sobriety in the depths of anything but. “Fuck it Fred (she’s always called me Fred), I don’t care what state you’re in I need to see you.” I really wanted to see her, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t even tell her I was roaming the streets of Hollywood with no place to go falling in and out of a dream state as I walked a crooked line. Before I knew it it was pitch black outside. Everyone was so merry and giddy. Girls my age dressed to kill, arm in arm with their lovers or bff’s .. I was alone. I didn’t even have a jacket. The Asian lady wouldn’t let me get my luggage from the room because I still owed a nights rent. I went to a semi familiar place. A girlfriend of mine that I met through the drug world had an apartment close to where I was. I knew she was out of town. I broke into the building and into her community laundry room, at least it was warm in there. I could get some sleep before calling my mom the next morning to get me that plane ticket. When I wore out my welcome in the laundry room, I moved to the basement of the building. I sat on lawn chair and cried. From that chair I saw a glorious party happening with twinkly lights and decorated pools. I heard joy and music, drunken laughter. I had no idea of the time, until I heard the count down. “10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 Happy New Year people jumping for joy” What have I done? It was the oddest thing to view my past life live, in action, right in front of me. Olive and I had been to parties just like that. I once was one of those oblivious, drunken girls jumping for joy at the prospect of a new year; new beginnings. Even though it was 10 feet away, it might as well have been 100 miles away. How did I get here? The evening got worse from there. I thought about another one of my drug buddies in West Hollywood. He was a flamer, through and through, but would usually let me crash if I had a hot dude with me. I was solo tonight, but thought I’d give it a try. I walked the 5 miles in open towed slippers and a wind breaker. I got to the steps of his apartment and fell asleep. I woke up and knocked on the door. A man I had never seen before opened to say the fairy was on an extended vacation somewhere. I could tell it was a lie. A cab driver seemed to take pity on me and asked if I needed a ride, I told him I was broke. He still offered the ride. I told him to take me back to Hollywood and Fulton. I should’ve known it was too good to be true. I don’t think he wanted me to sit in the front seat to take advantage of the heater; he wanted to take advantage of me. About a mile away from where he picked me up, I could tell, he wasn’t going to let me out without a favor in return. I started sobbing and sobbing, he patted my hair “It’s ok, there’s nothing to be afraid of” I wanted his disgusting fingers out of my hair. He started driving faster. Great, now I can’t jump out. He took a sharp left onto a side street. My angels must’ve been looking after me because a cop pulled him over. I had never been so happy to see a cop in my whole life.. Little did that cop know, he saved me from being raped. I went back to the basement where the New Year ’s Eve party was letting out. I shivered myself to sleep until sunrise. Called my mom to tell her I was coming home. I arrived with the clothes on my back, I never got my luggage from the Asian lady. I had not a dime in my pocket, I weighed 80 pounds.

Yes, a lot had changed. I was sober, happy, gainfully employed, I had a car. I was like a responsible person now. As I waited for the red light to turn green on the fwy I called Olive. Little did I know that perfect Friday in May would turn to the saddest day imaginable. Our mutual best friend had just been murdered. At least I had 20 more minutes to enjoy the drive home from work and pretend all was OK before she returned my call with the news. Yes, what a difference a few minutes makes.</